Winter (Not Edited)

Chapter 5

Emerson stood shocked at how she had forgiven him. It was such a small apology she could have went without it, yet she forgive him.

Something awakened in the beasts heart that night. From the small, kind words Winter had spoken to him, it showed him that if she could forgive him certainly he could forgive himself.

It would take time, but it was possible.

Emerson made his way to his room, checking every room along the way. He still had no idea which room of the estate Winter was staying in.

The second door to the end was opened slightly. He walked closer and pushed the door open, quietly.

Winter was shivering as the blanket wrapped her small frame. Why did she pick one of the coldest rooms of the estate? He thought. The large windows were the cause of the brutal temperature.

Moving silent as possible he watched as Winter snuggled her tear-stained face into the pillow. Emerson was never one to feel bad about his actions, but he couldn't help feeling low of himself.

The estate was purely white noise. Emerson cut across the hallway to another bedroom. He casually opened the closet looking for a comforter.

Entering the second bedroom he had found one, it was thick and heavy. It should keep heat good.

Retreating back into Winter's room, he walked quietly over to her. She mumbled something and then turned the opposite way. Emerson took the opportunity to pull the thick fabric over her tiny body. As an effect her body instantly molded into the warm blanket.

Feeling slightly better, as he had traded an act of kindness, returning the price he owned her after she forgave him. He made his way to his room.

12 years ago

"Grant!" Called Mr. Emerson, Grant's father. A sixteen year old Grant made his way to his dad. The east wing of the estate was vacant and for guest only, but Grant always seemed to like it better. He slept in the east wing every night.

"Please start a fire for us." Grant's dad asked. Grant nodded as he sat down his jacket by the fireplace and he rolled his sleeves up, starting the fire. He was now currently in the west wing of the estate, his entire family slept here.

Slowly his little sister, Mary, was walking up behind him, ready to pounce like a lion pounces on that of prey.

Mary attacked Grant, but Grant was quick and pulled her around and tickled her sides. "Stawp, Grant!" She laughed, she hated being tickled.

Grant stopped tickling her as she began to breathe normal again, hiccuping a few giggles. "Now what is it you want?" He asked.

Mary leaned down to whisper in her big brother's ear. "Can we please play hide and seek in the east wing tomorrow?" She asked crossing her fingers he would agree.

Grant laughed at her question, but in all honesty, he wanted to. He loved hide and seek, even in his adolescent years.

Grant motioned her to lower her ear. "Yes, but it's late and if we play early we must go to bed now." He whispered.

"Promise?" Mary whispered holding her pinky out. Grant shook his head and captured her pinky with his, "Promise."

He knew he was saving his parents time by telling her that. They would often struggle putting her to bed. Grant would sometimes sneak into her room and they would talk for a while, about anything a six year old could comprehend.

Mary's feet shot across the living room as she ran to her room. "Goodnight I love you guys, but I am super tired." Mary yelled as she pretended to yawn. Grant stifled a laugh as his mother entered the room. His mother was beautiful, he would always say he got his looks from his mother.

"After you are finished with the fire, I want to talk to you." His mother, Mrs. Emerson spoke. As any other kid, Grant's mind shuffle through anything he might have done. As if his mother was reading his mind she spoke again. "You are not in trouble." She laughed.

The fire engulfed in roar as crackles were popping loudly from the damp wood. Particularly the reason for it taking longer than usual to light.

"I want to talk about you sleeping in the east wing." Mrs. Emerson said, softly. He could tell she wasn't mad, but how is he not in trouble. His mom hated when he slept there.

"Yes?" Grant's voice came out a bit crooked. His mother moved closer as they both sat on the couch together.

"I understand it might be easier sleeping in the east wing, but as your mother it does scare me. If anything were to happen." Grant cut her off.

"Mom, nothing is going to happen." Grant's voice was reassuring and promising. His stood up, kissed his mother's forehead. "Goodnight," he spoke before heading to his room. In the east wing.

The estate was quiet that night. His mother, father, and Mary were sleeping in the west wing. The fire was popping viciously, from the dampness of the wood.

The popping was sending sparks from the fire outwards. Nobody around, this was a set up for disaster. A spark hit Grant's jacket that still lay upon the floor.

The second the spark hit the fabric, it caught to fire instantly. Going along with it next the couch was engulfed by the bright flames. Spreading throughout the west wing of the estate was a raging fire, about to take the lives of innocent people.

Grant jerked awake by the sound of screaming. Mary. Mary was all the way in the west wing, if he could hear her tiny voice screaming it meant something was wrong.

He ran straight towards the west wing as fast as his legs could carry him. He was awkward and lengthy at his adolescent years.

Hot, blazed heat surrounded him. There was no way he could make it to their bedrooms. The screams of humans being burnt alive filled the sixteen year old boy's head. He caused this, he started the fire.

He killed his family.

Sirens and screaming, was all he heard before Emerson woke up.

Emerson could not sleep without being followed. His hot skin was stuck to the sheet. Nights when Emerson would have nightmares, his day following would be awful.